


A Beginning

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: F/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Prompt Fill, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: She was his wife and, whatever else had happened to them and between them, he wanted to start their marriage on the right note.
Relationships: Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Sofia "Sonya" Alexandrovna Rostova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	A Beginning

Sonya stood with her back to him, slowly taking the hairpins out of her hair. Dark strands slowly unwound from the festive updo they had been bound into and fell over her shoulders in loose waves. She had slipped out of her ornate wedding dress and corset some time ago; now her body was covered only with the thin fabric of her silk nightgown. 

Dolokhov, standing silent by the door, thought it was strange to have her here, in his small, simple bedroom, so not accustomed to a woman’s presence. Certainly not a woman who lived there and called it home. Especially odd to think Sonya now _belonged_ there. That it was not some strange dream but a reality of their both respective existences. That she was not there for single, misguided night, but for the rest of their lives. 

That she was now his wife. 

Dolokhov walked over to her and gently put his hands on her shoulders from behind. A little startled, though not surprised, she looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to chide him for intruding on her before she was ready, but the words died on her lips and she merely looked at him.

“You look beautiful,” he said. She flushed and looked down. 

“You already told me that today.”

“Is it my fault that you are a different sort of beautiful every time I see you?”

A small smile tugged on the corners of her lips. “Certainly, you are more proficient in the art of flirtation than this, Fyodor Ivanovich.”

It was not much like her to be coy, and he thought that she must be nervous. He looked at her hands and noticed that the knuckles were white from how hard she was clutching a hairpin. She _was_ nervous. 

“You should really call me Fedya. Now that we’re married. Please.”

Sonya seemed taken aback but nodded, slowly. “Alright. It is perhaps best if we act as husband and wife now.” She turned in his arms and looked into his face. There was a guarded sort of fear in her eyes. “I’m not certain what I’m supposed to do.” 

Dolokhov smiled and cupped her face with one hand, traced it down her cheekbone and across her chin, studied the soft lines of her innocent, kind face, her expression open, even now, even as she fought to not be _too_ vulnerable. “You don’t have to know,” he said. He pushed a dark lock of hair out of her face and smiled at her in a way that he hoped was encouraging. Slowly, Dolokhov leaned down and kissed her. 

Her lips were soft under his, tasting of sweet, dessert wine. They parted slowly, unsurely under his. She was tense as he wound an arm around her waist, keeping one hand by her face, lightly cupping her chin and cheek. Slowly, very slowly, she began to sink into him and respond to his kisses, her body growing warmer, pressing closer to him.

He guided her backwards, until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat down, pulling her down into his lap. Sonya made a small startled sound, but when he tried to pull away so he could reassure her, she only wound her arms around his neck. He could feel her breasts through the thin fabrics of her nightgown and his undershirt. She was there, in his arms, in his lap, practically on his bed. She was his wife. Claiming her would be easy. But there was a part of Dolokhov that was frightened of just that. Not his own performance, but of scaring her off. Of bringing an intimacy into their relationship that she was not ready for. 

She was his wife and, whatever else had happened to them and between them, he wanted to start their marriage on the right note. 

Dolokhov pulled back and looked into her eyes, searching for fear or disgust. Or perhaps the blank look of a woman who has accepted that she has duties and is willing to perform them, but derives no joy from them. But he could only read a girlish uneasiness and excitement in her face. “We don’t have to do anything… Please, I want you to enjoy anything we do. If you do not wish to do anything tonight, simply say so.”

For a moment Sonya only looked at him, gnawing at her lip. For a moment, he was certain she would take him up on the offer to delay consummating their marriage. Then, after several agonizing moments, her arms around him tightened and she said, quietly and a little breathlessly, “I want to. I am you wife, and I want to.”


End file.
